Everybody Love A Clown
by Deansgirl95
Summary: Dads gone, so are the colt and the demon. Everything in Dean's life is crap. He reunites with Rachel after not speaking with her for weeks after their night together only to realize she's more tied into his life then he, or she, thought. PLS READ & REVIEW
1. Chapter 1

Dean was thankful for the shade underneath the car. The sun blazed over head and in his current position, on his back on a roller board under the chasse, socket wrench in hand attaching the new oil pan, he was nice and cool.

Zepplin's "Immigrant Song" played low on the radio he had set up on the tool bench and Dean was thinking about how much he loved John Bonham's marchy sounding drum beat in this song when he saw his brothers brown boots approaching.

"How's the car coming along?" Sam asked.

"Slow." Dean replied, attaching the last screw to the pan.

"Yeah? Need any help?" Sam asked.

Dean cringed at the thought.  
"What, you under a hood? I'll pass." He said.  
"Need anything else, then?" Sam offered.

_Not again. _Dean thought. He dropped the wrench and pushed himself out from under the car. He reminded himself as he stood that he shouldn't hit his brother. No matter how bad he really wanted to.

"Stop it, Sam." Dean said.  
"Stop what?" Sam asked.

Dean pulled the rag he had hanging out of the back pocket of his jeans and began futilely trying to rub the grease out of his knuckles. And he then again started telling Sam the same thing he'd been saying for 2 months since their father died.

"Stop asking if I need anything; stop asking if I'm okay. I'm okay. Really. I promise."

Sam looked defeated and for a moment Dean felt bad for snapping at him.  
"All right, Dean, it's just... We've been at Bobby's for a long time now and you haven't brought up Dad once."

"You know what? You're right. Come here. I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance." Dean mocked as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Don't patronize me, Dean." Sam said, getting angry now. "Dad is dead. The Colt is gone, and it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened."

"What do you want me to say?" Dean asked with his palms out.

"Say something, all right? Hell, say anything!" Sam said, starting to shout now. "Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this damn car."

"Revenge, huh?" dean asked, still cool and calm.

"Yeah." Sam said scowling.

"Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of Dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But you know, if we do finally find it - oh. No, wait, like you said. The Colt's gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it." Sam looked at the ground as his brother spoke. Not agreeing with Dean but knowing he was right none the less. "We've got nothing, Sam. Nothing, okay? So you know the only thing I can do? Is I can work on the car."

Done, Dean crouched by the fender, running the ran over the shiny new metal.

He saw Sam pull a cell phone out of his pocket and flip it open.

"Well, we've got something, all right?" Sam said, fidgeting with the phone, his voice calm again, the argument over.  
"It's what I came by here to tell you. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail code. Listen to this."

Sam held out the phone to Dean who looked at it reluctantly before deciding to rise and take it.

Dean put the phone to his ear and listened to the voice mail. It was a deeper female voice with a bit of a southern drawl.

"John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn, you know I can help you. Call me."

When the voice mail was over Dean again looked at his brother, unimpressed and gave him a small shur and a raise of his eyebrows as if to say _So? _

"That message is four months old." Sam explained.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean asked. That small fact turned the priority of the message up in his head. Dad wasn't the kind of man that held onto things for sentimental value. If he had that message for four months it was for a reason.

"Yeah." Sam answered.

"Well, who's Ellen? Any mention of her in Dad's journal?" Dean inquired.

"No. But I ran a trace on her phone number and I got an address." Sam said.

Dean thought about it for a moment and then decided that it was worth checking into.

"Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars." He said to his brother.


	2. Chapter 2

The address Sam had traced the number to was in town called Hastings Nebraska. So they headed south in the beat up old mini van Bobby had loaned them.

The one story building was located in the middle of nowhere on the outskirts of town and had seen better days. To call it a shack may have been a compliment. The porch was splintered wood and Dean had no idea how the roof hadn't collapsed on itself yet. The sign on the front read "ROAD HOUSE" spelled out in yellowed light bulbs.

Dean pulled the van in front and turned off the loud engine finally. Disgusted with the darn thing.

"This is humiliating. I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!" Dean complained.

"It's the only car Bobby had running." Sam defended as they exited the car.

They both surveyed the building, Dean noted that it was getting hard to see as the sun began to set. They walked onto the porch and Sam peeped in the dark window.

"Hello? Anybody here?" Sam called out.

The place looked deserted. Dean tried to handle on the door and found that it was locked. Not wanting to waste anymore time he turned to his brother.

"Hey. You bring the, uh,"

"Of course." Sam answered, not waiting for Dean to finish because he knew he'd meant the lock picks.

He tossed the little black bag to Dean, who caught it, opened it and selected the tool he needed.

The lock was no match. The door was open in a matter of seconds and Dean walked into the large room followed by Sam.

It was dark inside but Dean knew they were standing in a bar. To the left was the large bar made of a dark wood and lined with a brass railing, stools stood at spaced intervals before it, and then to the right were a number of wooden tables and chairs.

They moved in and navigated through the space in the gloom. They came to a large opening which led to a larger room off to the left which housed a pool table.

Nothing weird about a pool table in a bar, except for the fact that there was a man sleeping on this one.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam called to the man. He was wearing a flannel shirt, blue jeans and had longish hair. He was faced away from then so they couldn't see his face. He didn't even flinch at the sound of Sam's voice.

"I'm guessing that isn't Ellen." Sam said to Dean.

"Yeah." Dean agreed

They'd reached the end of the bar and Sam made a motion that he was going to go through the set of double swinging doors that led to the back to look around. Dean nodded.

Dean continued to look around the big room when he was alone. The setting sun made it harder to see this far into the bar so Dean looked around for the light switch.

He spotted it on the wall next to where the bar ended and headed for it. He'd almost made it there when he felt the double barrel of the gun press against the small of his back.

"Don't move." He heard a voice say.

He froze and began to raise his hands when he heard the gun cock.

_Oh shit. _He thought. No way was he getting shot in the back in some dive in the middle of nowhere.

Soldier mode kicked in and he remembered what his father thought him about getting out a situation like this one.

Taking advantage of the fact that he knew exactly where the gun was because it was pressed against him, he tensed his muscles and sprang around as fast as he could, bringing his hand down and grabbing the barrel, pulling it away from his would be shooter with his momentum.

The figure was a shadow when he was finally able to look at it but he could tell that it was shorter than him. The attacker threw a punch that he easily swerved out of the way of but what they did next took him by surprise.

The person used the momentum of the missed swing to spiral around and elbow him right in the stomach. When it knocked the wind out of him Dean knew he was dealing with someone that knew how to fight and corrected himself accordingly.

He rose up and lunged at the shadow at neck height, hoping to get them into a head lock but they were too fast for him. He missed and the shadow used the second Dean was off balance to their advantage by punching him in the face.

The fist caught him right in the corner of his mouth and he immediately tasted blood as he stumbled back.

"Sam!" He called out, bringing his hand to his mouth.

"Sam?" The shadow said.

_What? _Dean thought. Confused, he also realized at that moment that the voice was female.

He saw the shadow reach behind for the light switch. With a soft click the lights over head came on in full blaze and Dean could have dropped dead from shock at who stood before him.

Dressed in blue jeans, a black tank top and a white apron tied at her waist, Rachel stared back at him with wide, unbelieving eyes.

"Dean?" She asked incredulously, her expression one of shock.

"Rachel?" Dean asked, brow furrowed to the 10th degree he was sure.

They stood there staring at each other in disbelief. This couldn't be. What was she doing here attacking him? This isn't how he imagined their reunion after making love to one another would begin, with her punching him in the mouth.

Before either of them could say a word the double doors opened and Sam came through them. They both turned to look and saw him walking with his hands linked on top of his head. Behind him was a woman in her 40's aiming a pistol at his head.

"Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up." Sam said nodding his head toward the woman.

"Mom, it's ok. Put the gun down." Rachel said.

Dean turned back to Rachel upon hearing her exchange with the older woman. "Mom"?

Rachel looked at him and was about to say something when "Mom" spoke.

"Sam? Dean? Winchester?" She asked.

Dean recognized her voice instantly from his father's voice mail.

"Yeah." Sam answered.

"Son of a bitch." She said.

"Wait. Mom, you know them?" Rachel asked.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's boys."

She lowered the gun from Sam and laughed. Dean saw her resemblance to Rachel immediately in the action.

"Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter Rachel."

"Yeah, we've hunted with Rachel." Sam informed.

"You know them too Rachel?" Ellen asked her daughter.

She locked eyes with Dean just then. "Yeah, Mom. I do."

_Yeah you know us. _Dean thought as he looked into those beautiful green eyes of her again after such a long time. _Me in the biblical sense as a matter of fact. _

A pang hit him at that moment looking at her. He knew he'd missed her, but he'd had no idea how much until now when she was standing in front of him.

Dean brought his hand to his mouth and saw that his fingers came away bloody. He could already feel his lip starting to swell.

"That was just a lucky punch you know." He said to her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Surely not happy with the idea of her fighting skills being mocked when she knew as well as he did that she'd gotten the best of him.

"Alright then smart ass." She said to him. "Sit down and I'll get you some ice for that lucky punch of mine."

Barely in the same room together for 3 minutes after not speaking for weeks, her spilling his blood and almost shooting him, they'd somehow managed to fall right back into place with each other.


	3. Chapter 3

Rachel handed the small bar towel full of ice to Dean and watched as he gingerly brought it up to the corner of his mouth.

She felt terrible for hitting him but she reminded herself that she'd been justified in the act at the time.

She and Mom had been in the cellar counting stock when they'd heard the door open upstairs. The door Rachel knew she'd locked the night before. When they'd peeped out all they saw where two large, hulking shadows making their way around the room and they'd both assumed they'd been looking for things to steal.

Rachel had no intention of shooting her shadow or even engaging in hand to hand combat with it but he'd attacked her and she'd reacted. Had she known it was Dean she never would have hit him much less pointed a gun at him.

Most of the shock of see him standing before her when the lights came on was gone and the first emotion that replaced it was gratitude that he was alive. Even Sam for that matter, who occupied the chair next to his where his brother sat on the table top, was alive and well.

The last time she'd seen either of them they were headed out on a suicide mission with their father to finally hunt the demon that had killed their mother after being given the weapon to kill it by her grandfather. When she'd left Dean in the motel room that morning she truly feared that she would never see him again.

Yet thankfully here he was, bleeding right in front of her.

"Thank you." He mumbled.

"You're welcome." She said.

He looked up and caught her eyes. She held them and in that one look they said so much to each other. It was a proper greeting finally mixed with knowing and acknowledgement. It was the best they could do with Sam and her mother in such close proximity and for the moment is was enough.

"Ok, so you boys want to tell me what it is your doing breaking into my bar and more importantly, how you know my daughter?" Ellen asked as she sat on the bar stool next to where Rachel stood.

"Rachel's the easy part." Sam said, looking up at her. She gave him a small smile. "We met up on the road a few times. Hunted together."

"They helped me with the vampires that got Papa." Rachel informed her mother.

Mom looked over at her and she could see the fuse she'd lit already. She'd have to explain that in greater detail later because up until now no mention of her life on the road had been made.

After Rachel had come home she'd just slept, reunited with her mother and worked the bar. Mom was never happy that she and Kelly had followed Dad's footsteps and hit the road hunting and when Rachel returned she'd never brought up the life she'd lived for the year plus she'd been gone. Rachel just wanted to live in the moment so she'd never brought it up either.

"But that's not why you're here is it?" Ellen asked, focusing her attention back to the boys.

"You called our dad. Said you could help. Help with what?" Dean said.

"Well, the demon, of course." She answered. "I heard he was closing in on it."

Rachel looked at her mother in disbelief. She knew John Winchester AND knew of his hunting for the demon that killed his wife?

"What? Was there an article in the Demon Hunters Quarterly that I missed?" Dean asked, apparently just as shocked as she was. "I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"Hey, I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass through now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once." Ellen said.

"Oh yeah? How come he never mentioned you before?" Dean said, getting agitated.

"Dean, your dad knew me. Said he knew my dad, remember?" Rachel interjected.

Dean's face softened a bit. Seemed she was taming the savage beast.

"You'd have to ask him why he never mentioned us." Ellen finished.

"Ok, so why exactly do we need your help?" Dean asked. His voice rough again.

Dean didn't like not knowing things he didn't know. And right now her mother was the biggest mystery to him of all. So Rachel forgave him for getting a little hard with her.

After all, hadn't she done the same thing with his father when they'd met up in Colorado? But Mom wasn't someone to get loud with. Rachel could already see her mother's frame stiffen in reaction to Dean.

"Hey, don't do me any favors. Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if…." Ellen trailed off, a look of realization on her face. "He didn't send you." She finished.

Dean looked down then over to his brother. They shared a knowing look.

"He's all right, isn't he?" Ellen asked.

Sam's face said it all even before he started talking. "No. No, he isn't. It was the demon, we think. It, um, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

John Winchester was dead.

"Dean…." Rachel said before she could stop herself.

Her instant impulse was to go to him and kneel in front of him, put her arms around him and tell him how sorry she was. She couldn't do that of course, not just because Sam and Mom where here but also because she knew that Dean wasn't the kind of person you mushed over. Even when it came to something like this. He looked up at her and she saw the pain in his eyes regardless of how hard they were at the moment.

"It's okay. We're all right." He said to her.

"Really? I know how close you and your dad were." Ellen said.

He night take it from Rachel but she knew that he wouldn't from a perfect stranger which is what her mother was.

"Really, lady, I'm fine." He said in a harsh tone as he shot her a look.. Again, Rachel forgave him under the circumstances.

"So look, if you can help, we could use all the help we can get." Sam said, defusing the situation.

"Well, we can't." Mom said, glancing up at Rachel. "But Ash will."

Rachel nodded.

"Who's Ash?" Sam asked.

"Ash!" Ellen called toward the billiard room.

Ash, who'd been passed out on the pool table where Rachel had left him last night after closing time after trying to rouse him several times, jerked awake in a flurry of flailing limbs. He looked over his shoulder and saw Ellen.

"What? It closin' time?" He asked, confused.

Rachel couldn't help but smile. Ash was a hot mess but he was harmless and she had a soft spot in her heart for him always.

"That's Ash?" Sam asked, not bothering to hide the concerned expression on his face.

"Mm-hmm. He's a genius." Rachel informed him with confidence.

She couldn't hide to amusement she felt at that moment if she'd tried. But inside she felt much more then amused. The Winchesters, Dean especially, had made their way into her life again and she was very glad that he was here even if the reason he was here was a shitty one.


	4. Chapter 4

Sam slapped down his father's over flowing brown folder on the bar in front of Ash, who sat on the stool next to him.

Dean stood next to him, his arms crossed over his chest. Rachel watched him and tried to hide the smirk she felt growing in her face. She stood behind the bar and poured Ash a glass of water. She watched Dean eye Ash suspiciously.

"You've gotta be kidding me." Dean said, no longer able to contain himself. "This guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

Ash turned to look at Dean, his brow creasing in concentration. Dean's body stiffened as Ash looked at him, surely ready for the anger what would come from him in response to his insult.

Instead Ash just squinted his eyes and pointed to Dean while nodding his head. "I like you." He said in his soft southern drawl.

Dean didn't know what to make of it and again Rachel forced herself to stifle a chuckle.

"Thanks." Was all Dean said. Confused himself now.

"Just give him a chance, Dean." Rachel said. "You trust ME, right?"

Dean looked over at her and she again could see that her influence calmed him. He lowered his guard and sat next to Ash. He opened the folder and pushed it in front of the thinner, flannel clad man.

"Alright. This stuff's about a year's worth of our dad's work, so uh, let's see what you make of it." Dean said, still with a note of distain.

They watched as Ash skimmed over a few of the notes. Rachel peeked over and saw charts and graphs and scribbles that she couldn't make heads or tails of. And not just because she was seeing them upside down from behind the bar. It all looked very…technical. Something her brain was just not wired for. But seeing them also gave her a greater sense of confidence in Ash.

"Come on. This crap ain't real." Ash said, giving Dean a sideways glance. "There ain't nobody can track a demon like this."

"Our dad could." Sam said.

"There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations, I mean.. damn!" Ash said grimacing.

And there was the face Rachel as hoping she'd see on Dean. She could tell by looking at him that he didn't understand Ash's technical jargon any more than she did and was shocked that Ash could put a name to the charts and graphs that he'd surely been looking at trying to make sense of for God knows how long now.

Looking up and seeing the confusion on both the Winchesters faces, Ash simplified.

"They're signs. Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms... You ever been struck by lightning? It ain't fun."

"Can you track it or not?" Sam asked.

Ash skimmed through a few more pages.

"Yeah, with this, I think so. But it's gonna take time, uh, give me…...fifty one hours." Ash said.

"Fifty one? You're slipping Ash." Rachel teased.

He looked up at her and she could barely hide her smirk.

"Don't give me no lip, Rachel." Ash said, pointing to her with a disdainful look. "That is unless there's a kiss involved."

Rachel chuckled and she could see Dean tense just a bit in his seat.

"You're such a sweet talker Ash." Rachel went on. "I still have no idea why Kelly never gave you the time of day."

"Me neither." Ash said with a sad look, shaking his head slightly. He then turned his attention to the Winchesters. "Man, have you ever professed your love for a woman every. Single. Day. Only to be told that you 'weren't her type'? I've known heart break like nary a man has. Lost my only true love and she never even loved me back." Ash lamented with real sorrow.

"Um….That must be rough. Sorry to hear it." Sam said uncomfortably, trying to show sympathy.

"Kelly loved you Ash. Just not the way you wanted her too." Rachel reminded him, remembering the day Ash came to the bar years ago looking for work. He'd taken one look at Kelly, fell madly in love with the beautiful blond girl and had followed her around like a puppy dog every day after. Kelly had told him time and again with real affection that he was more like a brother to her but he was persistent right up until she was gone. And even now after it seemed.

"It don't matter then, does it?" Ash asked with sadness in his eyes. "Well, I better get to work, huh? I'll try to speed things up for you Rachel." He winked at her then so she knew that he knew she was only teasing.

Good old Ash. So simple and sweet and zany.

He got up and gathered the paper work then headed back toward the room he occupied toward the back of the bar, Rachel and the Winchesters watched him go.

"Hey, man?" Dean called out, turning in his bar stool. Rachel noted that his tone wasn't as clipped anymore. She thought that Ash might have just impressed him.

Ash stopped in his tracks and turned to acknowledge him.

"Yeah?"

"I, uh, I dig the haircut." Dean said, referring to Ash's dirty blond mullet.

"All business up front, party in the back." Ash said with a flip on his long locks and was gone in a flurry that only Ash could make.

Ellen rounded the bar lugging a case of beer just then.

"So, Ash gonna be able to help you boys or what?" She asked, setting the case down. While they filled her in on what Ash had just told them Rachel turned and reached into the fridge under the counter. She took out three long necked bottles, set them on top of the fridge and with a bottle opener popped all three caps.

She set one in front of Sam while he talked with her mother and hooked the other two with the middle and index finger of her hand around the necks. She caught Dean's eye and gave a nudge of her head toward the front of the bar, indicating that he should follow her.

He took the cue and left Sam talking with Ellen at the bar. Rachel sat at a table and Dean sat opposite her. She place one of the bottles in front of him.

"How's your face?" She asked as he slid into his chair.

He rubbed his jaw and flexed it a bit. "Quite a right hook you got there."

She chuckled and sipped her beer. "You should have seen your face when the lights came on and you saw that it was me."

"My face?" He said incredulously. "You looked like one of those carnival games of the clowns with the wide open mouths that you shoot water into to make the balloon pop."

He exaggerated what her expression must have been like with a wide open mouth and high arched eyebrows and she couldn't help but laugh. He did too and then took a long drink of his beer when they quieted down.

She watched his throat work with every swallow and couldn't help but think of the sound he'd made when she'd kissed the sensitive skin there not long ago. She forced herself to clear her mind and be serious. Her lust wasn't what he needed right now.

"How are you, Dean?" She asked in a hushed tone.

He pulled the bottle from his lips and settled the bottle on the table, looking at it instead of her for the moment.

"That seems to be the $64,000 question every ones asking these days." He said. He finally looked up at her.

"Please don't look at me that way." He said.

She cast her gaze down and shifted in her seat. It hadn't been her intention to make him uncomfortable.

"I'm fine, Rachel. I swear." He said.

She looked at him once again. "I'm sorry about your dad Dean."

"Yeah." He said. "Me, too."

He looked at her and she saw so many things in his hazel gaze. Pain, denial, fury, hatred, rage…sadness. But she took her own advice and said nothing more on the subject though. Instead she let him change the subject.

"So, family business huh?" Dean asked, closing his hand around the beer.

"Yeah." Rachel said looking around. "My dad opened it when my mom was pregnant with me. They say my first steps were right there behind the bar."

"So you've just been waiting tables all this time?" He asked.

There was more to his tone then just inquisitiveness. She detected a note of accusation.

"More like tending bar really." She said. "Why do you ask?"

He shook his head and said "Nothing." Before taking another drink.

"Bullshit." She said leaning her elbows on the table. "You never bothered calling me either you know."

He looked up at her. "I've obviously been very preoccupied." He said with emphasis on the 'obviously'

"So have I." She said. "Ok, fine. I haven't been demon hunting but you think it's easy to run a bar while trying to keep fifteen drunken hunters hands off your ass at one in the morning?"

"Oh, is that all?" He asked with a feigned look of surprise. "I just thought you didn't respect me in the morning."

She let out a breath, her shoulders slumping slightly as she studied him.

"I respect you just fine. That's not why I haven't called." She answered honestly.

"I'm waiting" He asked and picked up his beer again.

"You want the truth? I was afraid that Sam or your dad would answer your phone and tell me you were dead. Not hearing from you all this time only fueled the thought"

He just stared at her. She felt heat spread in her belly at finally being able to see him face to face and tell him what she'd feared the most. Something flashed in his eyes at her admission of worrying about his fate.

She lay in bed most nights after closing waiting for sleep to claim her. When she wasn't reliving their night together she was imagining how he'd met his end. It was always in a blaze of glory as someone of their stature should go, but it death none the less and it saddened her. When she hadn't heard from him in so long her fear slowly became a reality in her head, until just recently she'd begun to gather her courage to call and hear the bad news once and for all.

"Well, that's a relief." He said. "I'll be honest, I really thought you regretted what happened with us and never wanted to lay eyes on me again. You know, you being all fucked up and shit."

" 'WAS' all fucked up and shit, Dean. I'm not psycho bitch anymore. I put it all to rest that night. Sad that I took blood and guts to do it, but hey, whatever works right?" She gave him half a smile that he returned. When she spoke again it was with ernest.

"I don't regret us. Not even a little bit."

The moment hung between them. She hadn't given them much time in the motel room that morning to come to terms with their new 'knowledge' of each other. Instead of lingering in bed together or going out for breakfast to let the dust settle like most couples did after their first time being intimate with one another, she'd ran out to come home to a mother she'd alienated for a year and he'd run off demon hunting.

Not the norm to say the least, but so was their lives and she supposed that it was only fitting that their new found relationship was based on dysfunction of some kind since their lives were so dysfunctional by standard.

And so it came to this. Sitting in her bar over beer after having given him a fat lip. As crazy as it was it just seemed….right somehow.

"Speaking of which." He said with a family gleam in his eye. "I guess I've got fifty one hours to waste. Maybe tonight we should, uh..."

He stopped and looked down. The gleam gone suddenly and replaced by a look of uncertainty.

"No, you know what? Never mind." He said.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothing, just, uh, wrong place, wrong time." He said.

He was broken. What she'd just seen a second ago was the Dean she knew peeking through a curtain of crap that had fallen on top of him. And the crap had just enveloped him once again. Her heart broke for him and she wanted to reassure him that it was fine.

"Well," She said. "It can't always be a random motel in the middle of a thunderstorm, can it?"

They held each others eyes and didn't say anything. She wasn't sure if he'd smiled at her first and she'd returned it or vice versa.

Their moment was interrupted by Sam's voice from the bar.

"Dean, come here, check this out."

Dean looked over at his brother and said "Yeah." Before raising and leaving her at the table by herself.


	5. Chapter 5

A case. They had a case. Ellen had heard of a few deaths not too far from the road house that seemed like it might be a hunt. Sam had spoken to her about it and had pitched the idea of going to check it out to Dean

while they waited for Ash to come up with something from dad's paperwork. Dean was reluctant for all of a second before jumping on the idea.

His moment of hesitation had been the thought that if they took it that he would be leaving Rachel behind. The thought and the adversary to it were so sudden and unexpected that it scared him. Why should he care if he left her?

He knew the answer even if he didn't admit it to himself right away. He'd thought about her often. The memory of her had helped him get through a few of the harder moments and had been a welcomed distraction when working on the car just didn't cut it.

But there was no way he was going to let some chick get to him like _that. _Hunter or not.

So he'd decided that the job was definitely something they would look into. There was nothing like losing yourself in the task of killing something nasty. And the way that he felt right now he was going to obliterate it.

He went out to the car while Sam got the rest of the info from Ellen and got ready to hit the road. Rachel came out just like he knew she would. She wouldn't let him go without saying goodbye.

"The Impala?" She asked eyeing the god awful minivan.

Dean shook his head and leaned against the driver's side door. He slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shook his head.

"She didn't come out of the fight in one piece either. She's parked at a friend's house. I'm fixin' her up." Dean informed her.

Rachel crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head at the sad excuse for a motor vehicle that was the minivan. It was night but the bright lights of the road house sign illuminated her perfectly. Her slender arms were bare in the tank top she wore. Her skin, which was a beautiful dusky color that would hint at Italian heritage instead of the Irish he knew her to be, looked so soft that he felt his fingers ache a bit to reach out and touch her.

He didn't. Instead he allowed himself to remember what she'd felt like with those arms wrapped around his shoulders, her skin velvety under his finger tips as he'd brushed them over her ever so lightly. She'd shuddered sweetly against him when he'd done that. He'd felt it through the length of his body because the length of hers had been pressed against him.

God, he wanted her so bad. Just looking at her in the dim light, her hair loose and flowing down her back, her presents soothing to him on a level he just couldn't deny. What he wouldn't do to be wrapped up again in those arms, his face buried in that sweet smelling hair and just be at ease with his thoughts while she held him.

"Penny for your thoughts." She said.

He looked up and found her looking at him with a slightly furrowed brow. He must have been deep enough in his fantasy of her that it must have showed on his face. He shook his head and tried to make light of it so as not to betray how emotionally he'd been thinking about her. God, was he fucked up.

"Just thinking that this case that your mom handed us sounds like it has to do with clowns according to what the surviving little girl claims." He said.

"Yeah. So?" She asked.

"So, I was thinking about how the Hell am I going to keep Sam from crying like a baby at the first sight of one?" He said.

"Get outta here! The 9 foot tall genius is afraid of clowns?" She asked as her face broke into an ear to ear smile.

Dean couldn't help but smile back just as big to her reaction. The full delight on her face was contagious and lightened his heart.

"Ever since he was a kid." Dean informed her.

She broke into laughter then. The thought of Sam being afraid of something as silly as a clown was very comical but her reaction to it was unexpected and took him by surprise in a good way. She tilted her head back and laughed, her shoulders shaking from the action. The delight that she apparently found in his brothers irrational fear was contagious and soon he found himself joining in.

The musical sound of her laughter filled him with an overwhelming desire to reach out and touch her so that the joyfulness of it, of her at this moment, could fill him and replace this emptiness that had consumed him.

After a moment's hesitation and he found he couldn't resist, So he gave into it and reached out for her wrist. She looked at him when he closed his hand gently around it and was still laughing when he pulled her into his arms. He pressed her back against the car and she was still giggling slightly when he covered her mouth with his own.

She stopped laughing then and gave him a little 'mmm' as she slid her arms around his shoulders, one hand moving up to cradle the nape of his neck, and began to kiss him back.

He pressed his body against hers and sure enough the ease that he was hoping to feel at the contact began to wash over him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, placing his hands on the small of her back and brought his body in full contact with hers, pressing her back into the driver's side of the car as he deepened their kiss.

The kiss was soft. Not hungry or feverish but slow and gentle, warm and easy like they had all the time in the world to kiss each other. Regardless of the lazy feel of it, Dean felt his body begin to respond to her. He couldn't help but push his hips against her just a tiny bit so she could feel her effect on him. He was rewarded with a tiny gasp against his mouth and a little grind of her own hips back against him.

She tasted amazing. She knew how to apply just the right amount of pressure with her tongue against his own and exactly how to pull on his bottom lip to drive him crazy enough to lose himself in her completely. She was a treasure this one.

But more than anything he reveled in the fact that for the moment he was blissfully aware of nothing but her in the whole entire world. Not Dad, not the colt, not the demon, not the car…..Just Rachel.

He continued to kiss her until he knew that if they didn't come up for air they would both suffocate soon. So reluctantly, without letting her go, he pulled his head back and looked down into her beautiful green eyes.

"What was that for?" She asked huskily while playing with the hair just above his collar with her fingernails.

"For me." He answered simply.

To his surprise she took on a look like she knew exactly what he meant. Her eyes full of understanding and empathy. She pulled on the back of his neck until he brought his head down her. Instead of kissing him again she just pressed her forehead to his. They both closed their eyes and just stood there for a moment in the dark breathing in each other's breath.

After a while he lifted his head and gave her forehead a quick kiss.

"I gotta go." He said as he pulled away from her and moved to open the car.

She let him go shifted away, crossing her arms over her chest. He glanced at her lips as he opened the car door and gave the horn three quick taps to signal Sam that they needed to head out, They were slightly swollen from his kiss and he couldn't think of anything more satisfying to look at than that right now.

"Be careful ok." She said.

"Cross my heart and hope to die." He said and gave her a wink.

She smiled at him just as Sam emerged from the road house then, carrying the folder Ellen had shown him that she'd put together about the case.

His brother moved toward the car and he and Rachel shared a goodbye before Sam moved to the passenger side. He and Rachel exchanged one more look that contained their goodbyes and Dean slid behind the wheel of the minivan and closed the door.

He pulled away from the road house and back onto road that would lead them to the highway. He glanced once in his rearview mirror saw her heading back inside. He smiled at the thought that she would probably think of him for the rest of the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Rachel walked back inside the road house and saw her mother behind the bar cutting lemons and limes in preparation for the bar opening at 9 pm. When she didn't even look up at her when she entered, Rachel knew that her mother officially had a bug up her ass and sighed inwardly.

She didn't say anything but instead made her way to the other end of the bar and began her nightly job of prepping the ice, hopefully mom would just let whatever was eating her quell inside her until the bar opened in an hour and they were busy too busy with customers to begin arguing about it.

Rachel held no illusion that her mother would just let it pass though. She knew better than that. Ellen O'Conner was a woman that spoke her mind to a fault. She was hot blooded and whatever it was that had her bunched up right now would come out eventually.

Rachel hoped it wasn't about her and more about Sam and Dean's visit to be honest. Not because she didn't want to be distracted at the moment by the pleasant thought of Dean and his kiss right before he left, but more so because she hoped the problem was theirs and not hers. That way she would just bitch about them and not disturb the quiet peace she and her mother shared for the first time in her adult/hunting life.

Rachel loved her mother. More than anyone in the world presently but most of her life she and Ellen never saw eye to eye. It had always been over little things until Rachel had turned 17 and finally let her true feelings about hunting out. She wanted to do it. Wanted to be like her father and help people and that was when she and Ellen had really begun to bump heads.

Ellen had forbidden it. Her stance on the matter being that she would not lose another family member to hunting like she had her husband. What made the matter worst was when Kelly, only 15 at the time, had taken bravery in her older sister speaking her mind about the forbidden subject and announced that she too wanted to hunt.

Rachel and Ellen fought about it every day from then on. So to keep things somewhat peaceful Rachel had finished school and encouraged Kelly to do the same for the next three years. While secretly they were taught to shoot and fight by a few of the hunters they were closest to that frequented the roadhouse. Mostly old friends of their father who'd gone out on a limb to teach Jimmy's daughters how to do the job behind Ellen's back.

When Kelly was 18 and Rachel just a few weeks shy of her 21st birthday the girls finally came clean to their mother and hit the road for their first hunt. It was like a nuclear bomb had gone off that morning and Rachel and Ellen screamed at each other like they never had before. Kelly tried to keep the peace, always having been the go between for her mother and older sister, but even Kelly couldn't quiet the rage, then tears, then pleading, then rage again of their mother on that day.

They'd gone and hunted and been victorious. The thrill of it all exactly what Rachel had envisioned and she'd felt closer then she'd been to the father she'd lost in years. That alone was worth her mother's anger.

When she and Kelly had returned from the hunt a few days later, Ellen wouldn't even speak to them. They ran the bar together but not so much as a word was said to either of them for days.

For a year after that, every time Kelly and Rachel set out for a hunt it was World War 3 before they left until eventually Ellen accepted the fact that she couldn't stop them. So it went from screaming to just the cold shoulder when they left. And it went from the silent treatment for days after they came back to just stern looks and harsh, barked orders.

In the middle of all that Rachel knew her mother would never fully accept the fact that they'd become hunters, but in the begrudged way her mother handled their departures and returns Rachel knew she felt gratitude that they had returned home at all.

In between hunts things were the same. Rachel and Ellen fought about it and doing so drove a wedge between them that would never fully close but they functioned some how in the middle of it all.

Then Rachel and Kelly had hit the road for longer periods of time. Going from town to town, hunt to hunt, sometimes for 3 months at a time without returning home. Ellen had learned to accept that too eventually.

Then Kelly had been killed on a hunt. Rachel knew she couldn't face her mother after that. Ellen was a big part of the reason Rachel felt so guilty about her sister's death, she'd begged them not to hunt for fear that one day it would claim one of them. She'd been right and if she had listened the Kelly would still be alive.

When Rachel had finally come home she'd stood on the door step of the small house behind the bar that she'd grown up in and gathered her courage to ring the door bell. She had the keys but she hadn't felt comfortable enough to just walk in. So she'd rang the bed and her mother had opened the door for her.

She was shocked to see her at first but then Ellen had smiled. Rachel had burst into tears then and her mother had pulled her into her arms and stroked her hair until she'd stopped. She'd never said a word, just held her and let her cry.

Rachel slept for fourteen hours straight after that, the emotion of it all weighing heavily on her. When she woke she found Ellen had made a huge breakfast for her. Chocolate chip pancakes, eggs and bacon, orange juice, the works. Basically Ellen had done the modern day equivalent of ordering the fattened calf to be slaughtered in celebration of her prodigal son returning.

They'd fallen into a quiet routine after that. Working the bar, cleaning the house, making dinner. For the first time in a very long time they didn't argue. Nothing had been said at all about Kelly's death and Rachel's non communicative absence. The closest they'd come to it was Rachel asking where her sister had been buried so she could go visit her. That was how they'd kept the peace.

Until now.

Rachel just knew that the stew that was brewing in her mother was about her and not Sam and Dean and that the nice little truce was about to be shattered. _ Oh well, it was nice while it lasted._ Rachel thought.

As if on cue Ellen spoke. "So, you wanna tell me how you know those boys or what?"

Ellen didn't even look up from the lemons and limes as she spoke so Rachel didn't bother to stop scooping the ice from the ice machine into the cooler in the sink.

"Sam pretty much told it all. We met on the road, sometimes by accident; sometimes we called each other when we needed help. Simple really."

"Simple. Hhmmm." Ellen said with sarcasm.

"Yeah, simple. Why do you ask anyway?" Rachel felt the familiar stir in her stomach that preceded an argument with her mother and found that she hadn't missed the feeling.

"Just curious really. Guess now I have an answer for why my calls were ignored most of the time. Who'd want to talk to me and let me know you're not dead when you've got handsome boys like that around?" Ellen said.

"Alright Mom. Enough." Rachel said, she stopped what she was doing and faced her mother, who continued to cut the citrus.

"Enough what Rachel?" Ellen said, looking at her daughter now. "Why didn't you tell me you hunted with John Winchesters son's while you were out there?"

"The subject never came up, mom. Not until they walked through the door. In case you haven't noticed, you and I haven't really talked about my life on the road in the last few months since I came home. Why does it matter?" Rachel asked.

"Maybe I don't want you around them." Ellen said.

Rachel was stunned. Did she really think she could be told who to be around or not?

"You don't want me around them? You're kidding right?" Rachel asked.

"Rachel, listen to me. Their father was an obsessed man. He didn't care what or who got in the way of him finding that demon and you can't be sure that he didn't teach his boys the same. If it came down to you being in the way of finding it, John would go through you, I'm sure of it. You can't hunt with people like that. People you are expendable to."

"They both saved my life numerous times out there, Mom. You're wrong about them and about John." Rachel shot back.

"Am I? You can be 100% sure of that?" Ellen asked, her brown furrowing and her southern drawl deepening like it did when she was upset.

"Then why did you call John, Mom? If these aren't the kind of people we should be around why were you trying to help him?" Rachel asked.

"Helping him and being out there with him are two different things. I would never step foot on a hunt with John Winchester and you should think twice about doing the same with his sons." Ellen said.

"Well, I'm sorry you feel that way mom but you're wrong about Sam and Dean. I'd want either of them at my back on a hunt any day." Rachel said. "They're good hunters, good people and I trust them whole heartedly."

Ellen's face softened a bit and Rachel saw her chew the inside of her mouth. Something she did when she was trying to hold something she wanted to say in. It never worked, just like now.

"Especially Dean, I'm sure." Ellen said.

Rachel narrowed her eyes at her. So she'd seen the chemistry between her and Dean, maybe she'd even seen the kiss outside. Oh, well. It's not like she was ashamed of it or was going to hide it.

"Is that what this is about? Me and Dean?" Rachel asked.

"So you're not only hunting with them, you're screwing one of them! Perfect!" Ellen raised her voice and threw the knife she'd been using into the sink.

"MOM!" Rachel said with wide eyes. Shocked that her mother would say such a thing about her.

"Rachel Kathleen, if you're smart and you value anything I have to say at all you'll steer clear of the Winchesters. Hunting or romantically. I know he's a good looking boy but sweetie, there are a lot of good looking guys out there who…"

"Mom, stop!" Rachel all but yelled, silencing Ellen. "First of all, Dean and I are not involved with each other, not that it's any of your business one way or another. I'm 24 years old and I'll see who ever I like, Winchester or otherwise. Second of all, please don't assume I'm 'screwing' anyone and please remember that even if I am that again, it's none of your business. So are we done? We open in less than an hour and if we sit here bitching at each other we're going to have a bar full of people and nothing to serve them. So can this conversation be over please?"

The two women just stared at one another across the bar. Letting the dust settle between them and everything that was said to sink in. Ellen nodded her head finally and picked up the knife out of the sink.

"I just worry about you is all. I always have." She said.

"I know mom. But they're here and they need our help. You called their father to help him. Since John can't be helped anymore lets help Sam and Dean finish what he started. I know you don't want to hear this, mom. But they're important to me ok?" Rachel said. After a moment's thought she added one final thing to her plea. "Especially Dean."

Once again they stared at each other. Ellen looked defeated and Rachel found herself sad that her mother disapproved of Dean even on THAT level.

"Hey what's with all the yelling?" Rachel turned to see Ash standing in the archway next to his room. "You guys sound like me the night I tried E for the first time only not as happy."

Rachel couldn't help but smile at him. Ash always had a way of making things light without realizing he was doing it.

"Sorry Ash." Ellen said. "We're just getting things ready and talking. You go on now and figure out how to help those boys. Me and Rachel got the bar tonight."

"Sure thing Ellen. Let me know if you need to come out and bounce any one outta here for ya though." Ash said, trying to sound though. The visual of his 120 lb body and thin arms in the flannel shirt with the sleeves cut off that he wore made the statement almost comical.

"Sure will Ash. Thank you." Ellen said.

With that Ash disappeared in the back once again. Ellen began cutting limes once again so Rachel followed suit and began to scoop ice once again.

As far as fights went that was a pretty tame one for them. Rachel knew the peace wouldn't last forever. And in her mind she knew that this was the beginning of it coming back with a vengeance.


	7. Chapter 7

Three days past. Rachel worked the bar with her mother while Ash worked on….whatever it was he was working on.

While she poured drinks, did shots with her customers, kept inventory on hand and listened to the hunters talk she tried very hard to fight the urge to call Sam and Dean, find out where they were and join the hunt.

She was itching for it, had been for a while now. That pull at the thought of being a predator to something that was a predator itself. The thrill of discovery, the smell of salt and sulfur and fire, the satisfaction of knowing she'd helped people. It was so ingrained in her that the lack of it was starting to take a toll on her in the form of constant wanting and a need deep in her belly. It was who she was. And at the moment she was denying herself.

She'd been able to quell the hunger for a while now for her mother's sake and for the sake of just taking it easy for a while after such a hard year and a half on the road, but the thought of Sam and Dean out there doing what she wanted to be doing so bad it almost gave her a physical ache in her gut.

She threw herself into her work at the bar to keep from thinking about it too long, but even then she knew that she didn't have long before the need over took her and she'd have to give into it. That time hadn't come just yet so she kept her phone in her pocket and poured the damn whiskey.

The bar opened earlier on the weekends, the Saturday after Dean and Sam's "visit/break in" Ellen took the earlier shift and then Rachel took the evening shift till closing.

At 1:00 she was forced to tell Old Man Peterson that it was time to go home as she wiped down the bar and hung up the last of the clean glasses. She or her mother did this at least three times a week with him. He was a sweet old man that reminded her of Papa, he was lonely and frequented the bar for company and to drink himself into a comfortable numbness before saying good night as the last customer and hobbling home to his cabin up the road.

"G'night Rachel. Get home safe." He said to her as he let himself out the front.

She came around the bar smiling to lock up behind him.

"We only live out back Mr. Peterson, you live a little further so you're the one that needs to be safe ok?" She reminded him with a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Will do little lady. Tell yer mama I'm sorry I missed her tonight." Peterson said as he stepped out into the darkness.

"I will Mr. Peterson." Rachel said. "Good night."

She watched as the old man stepped off the front porch before closing the door behind him. She fished the key out of the back pocket of her jeans and slipped it into the lock. Just before she could turn it a flash of white light moved across the front windows, making her look up.

The lights were the headlights of the beat up old van Sam and Dean had driven away in. The van pulled into what would be thought of as the front yard of the bar and settled on the gravel. The hunt must be over, Sam and Dean were back.

Rachel felt a small flurry of butterflies in her belly as she watched Dean get out of the driver's side. She chastised herself for being such a teenage girl before opening the door and walking out onto the porch.

She walked across the porch and stepped off of it as Sam got out and retrieved a large duffle from the back seat.

"How'd it go?" She asked as she reached the car.

"Fine. Got the bad guy." Sam answered.

"Well that's always a good thing." She said.

"Any chance Ash is still awake?" Dean asked, coming around to the passenger side and leaning against the car, his hands in his jacket pockets.

"No I don't think so. But I wouldn't be surprised if he had something for you. I haven't seen him in three days." Rachel informed him.

"Guess it'll have to wait till tomorrow." Sam said. "You got a place for us to crash for the night Rach? My heads gonna explode."

"Hard hunt huh?" She asked the taller Winchester.

Before Sam could answer Dean did a half chuckle, half snort thing that made them both look at him questioningly

"His heads going to explode because he's going be dreaming of giant red noses for the next week." Dean said.

"Oh yeah." Rachel said with a teasing smile, remembering the last conversation she and dean had had before they'd set out on the road. "Clowns, right? There were clowns there, huh Sam?"

"Screw you both, ok." Sam said.

Dean laughed and Rachel felt in the mood to continue teasing him, but then she saw his eyes, tired and heavy from the trip. She could see his mental weariness and felt a pang of guilt and being mean to him, even if it was all in fun.

"Yeah, c'mon." Rachel said. "We got an old garage out back that my mom keeps a couple of beds in for hunters that need a night to recoup. You guys can talk to Ash in the morning."

And with that the Winchesters followed her through the bar after she'd locked the door for the night. She led them out the back door, which she also locked behind her.

The bar sat on a half acre of property, most of it in the back here. About 1,000 feet behind the back of the bar, across a big grassed area stood the O'Connar home, a small 2 story farm house with a wraparound porch. The house was painted white with dark trim.

"That's the house I grew up in. Purty, ain't it? That's where you guys'll stay." Pointing to the large garage painted the same white with dark trim set a little of the ways back and about 500 feet to the left of the house.

When they reached it Rachel opened the door and turned on the light on. Inside where 2 large rooms, both of which had three single beds lined against the walls, in the back of those rooms there stood a huge full bathrooms. It wasn't much, but it was functional and Rachel liked the fact that it at least looked almost cozy.

"Here it is, Motel de la O'Connar." Rachel said as the guys moved past her into the room.

"Thanks Rachel. This sure beats sleeping in that damn van." Dean said, "I don't know what the Hell Bobby does in there but the whole thing smells like cheese."

"Good cheese or bad cheese?" Rachel asked with a squint that said she was afraid of the answer.

"It ain't 'gooey on a burger' cheese that's for sure." Dean answered.

Sam set the duffle down in the corner and sat on the bed, he began taking his jacket off and followed by pulling taking off his boots.

Dean also started to settle himself in so Rachel took the clue.

"Ok, I'm runnin' on empty so I'm gonna grab something to eat." Rachel said and started to head out the door.

"Food?" Dean asked, looking hopeful as he took off his own jacket and threw it on the bed closest to him.

"Yeah, I didn't get a chance to earlier." Rachel said.

"Us either, drove straight here." Dean said.

Rachel felt a pang of anticipation that he might join her for a bite. The idea of sitting with him in her kitchen over her mother's lasagna, looking at his handsome face while they ate was very appealing.

"Come on, then." She said with nod toward the open door.

She offered to bring Sam a plate but he declined, saying that the weariness was much more powerful than his hunger at the moment.

So she and Dean made their way across the yard to the house. The air was muggy but there was a full moon which helped light their way as they walked. Half way there Dean nodded his head toward the giant elm tree that could be seen from their path behind the house.

"Is that a tree house?" He asked.

Rachel nodded and smiled. "Yeah, my dad built that for me and Kelly when we were little."

The tree house stood in the middle of the thick branches of the tree, it was bare, unfinished wood so the small structure blended in with the natural tan coloring of the elm. It looked more like a cabin than a house and like it had been made for boys rather than two little girls. That fact had suited Rachel and Kelly just fine since neither had been the Barbie doll type.

"Cool huh?" Rachel asked as she looked at Dean's face. He was fascinated by it from what she could tell.

"Very cool." He said.

Mom was asleep so the house was dark and quiet when Rachel opened the back door and turned the light on to reveal her small kitchen. She stepped aside to let Dean in and closed the door behind him.

"Have a seat, I'll get nukin'" She said.

Dean sat on one of the stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen as Rachel went to the refrigerator, Opening it, she pulled out the pan of covered lasagna and two cold bottles of cold, amber colored beer. She set the tray on the counter next to the microwave, grabbed the magnet bottle opener from the fridge and turned to the island where Dean sat.

"So this is ground zero huh? The place you talked about all those months." Dean asked as he watched her set the bottles down between them and pop the tops off one by one.

"Yeah." She answered, pushing one of the bottles toward him. "It's not much, but its home. Now I can't wait to get out of it again."

Dean took a long drink from his beer and contemplated her. She turned while he did, took two plates from the cabinet and began to slice out portions of the cold lasagna.

"You serious?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I'm starting to feel really claustrophobic. Itchy, you know?" She said as she slid the two plates into the microwave and set it for 4 minutes.

"You're something else you know that?" He said,

She turned back to him and sat on the opposite side of the island facing him.

"Why's that?" She asked taking her first drink of beer and relishing the feel of it down her throat.

"Your mom's a little crude but she loves you very much. It's obvious." He said.

"Yeah I know and I'm happy to be back. I swear. It's just that I'm starting to feel….Contained." She said for lack of a better word.

"What like a wild bronco or something?" He asked. "How do you feel 'contained' in a house that's yours? You know where everything goes, you know the sounds here, everything is familiar. Why do you make that a bad thing?"

She just stared at him, feeling like the biggest ass in the world. He'd probably dreamt of a place like this when he was a kid. While most boys wanted baseballs cards and the latest sneakers, he'd probably just dreamt of a bed that was all his and a kitchen table to sit and have a snack at that never changed. A place for him and Sam other than the constant string of motel rooms that offered nothing but bare necessity and not a hint of warmth.

Rachel looked around her green kitchen and saw a ton of memories in the small space. The white spot on the wooden floor there in the corner that her mother had scrubbed with turpentine because Kelly had dropped a pint of paint on it when she was 10, the cabinet door that she knew if opened would reveal a picture in permanent marker of her and her mother holding hands under a sunny sky she had drawn when she was 6. Mom hadn't even been mad at her for that one but instead left it there all these years, proud of Rachel for such a beautiful masterpiece.

The whole house was like that, every room held something that had meaning and here she was complaining about not being able to breathe in it to someone who would probably do anything for a chance at the same kind of thing to call his. She thought back to the tree house and how he'd been in awe of it on the walk from the garage. He'd probably wanted one his whole life, didn't every little boy?

"I'm sorry." She said to him. "Don't get me wrong. I love it here, its home. But I can't change the fact that I need to be out there hunting, Dean. That's all I meant."

He studied her for another moment before giving her a forgiving smile. "Yeah, I get it. I get…'itchy' was it? when I don't hunt for a while too. Just means it's in your blood. Who you are."

"Sad isn't it?" She asked. "People like us who can't stay off the hunt for long. Bet neither of us live to see 50 if we can't find a way to be comfortable sitting on our thumbs."

He looked at her deeply with those beautiful hazel eyes of his. The shirt he wore was a stone grey and his eyes seemed to be the kind to change slightly in different light or with his clothing, so at the moment his eyes were brighter than usual. She could look at them for hours.

"I never was fond of the idea of being geriatric anyway." He said and took another long swallow of beer.

She smiled at him. His attitude defined his character in so many ways and this was the perfect example of it.

The microwave dinged and she rose to fetch the heavenly smelling food it had to offer. She set the steaming plate in front of him and the other in her spot before grabbing utensils for them both and sitting down again.

They dug into the cheesy, meaty goodness while drinking the rest of their beers. Dean told her all about the hunt. The monster had turned out to be a Rakshasa, a shape shifter that used innocent images to trap and prey. He told her that the whole time the thing had been hiding under his and Sam's nose as the owner of a carnival they'd tracked it down to. In the end they'd killed it with a brass knife and hightailed outta there.

As they talked Rachel watched him eat. And as she did she tried not to make it obvious that she almost fascinated by the working of his jaw as he chewed. It made her wonder what he must look like when he was kissing her, his mouth moving over hers. And his hand as he used the fork to break off pieces of pasta, his fingers long and slim. She wanted to thread her own fingers through them, feel his rough palm slide over her soft one.

_Alright, you horny bitch, _Rachel chastised herself. _Now's not the time. _

"The damn thing almost choked the life out of Sam. Why is it that we always kill the damn thing just seconds before IT kills US?" Dean asked looking up at her.

Rachel chucked and wiped her mouth on the cloth napkin she'd gotten from the drawer.

"That always seems like the case doesn't it?" She said after she'd swallowed enough of her food to speak and not be rude.

"Hell yeah it does. I just wish that one time we could kill something before we even see it or gets the chance to dislocate anything on my body." He took another forkful of lasagna. "Ok seriously, what the fuck is in this? Crack?"

Rachel laughed this time; she loved the way he articulated.

"Yep, that's it exactly. Mom's going to be so pissed you figured out her secret ingredient." She said. "Seriously though, I have a feeling that anything home cooked would taste like a million bucks to you."

"True. I don't mind it most of the time but some road food can be pretty funky with a capital 'F'" He said.

They finished their plates, Rachel asked if he'd like seconds, he declined. So she cleared the plates and quickly washed the dishes and set them in the drainer next to the sink to dry. A glance at the clock showed it was nearly 2 AM.

He rose from his stool as she washed the dishes and stood next to the kitchen door. He peeked out of the curtain covering the windowed top portion of the door, toward the tree house.

"You're probably exhausted, why don't you head back to the garage, I'll finish up in here." She offered as she wiped her hands on a dish towel.

"I am tired." He said, simply. She kept his eyes, waiting for him to say more; instead he leaned with his shoulder next to the door and put his hands in the pockets on his jeans. He could be a model posing for a photo shoot the way he stood right now and she allowed herself the moment to slightly ogle over him.

Tall and lean, his legs long in worn jeans that hugged his hips and were baggy enough to not look frumpy but manly. His boots scuffed, the grey t-shirt he wore showing the bottom portion of his toned biceps and under which she could make out the wall of his chest and his flat belly. God, he was beautiful.

After another moment she gave him a half smile and raised her eyebrows in a 'please continue' motion.

"I just….." He started but then stopped. He seemed to be at odds with what he wanted to say. She waited and after another second he spoke. "I like being around you and I don't want to stop just yet."

She felt her heart swell just a bit at his very honest answer and felt flattered at the same time. She decided to return the honesty with some of her own.

"Good. Because I was kinda disappointed thinking you'd leave right now. I think I like being around you, too." She said.

They smiled at each other across the kitchen. He had such a hard soul, he protected himself with humor or just plain raunch most of the time but she was obviously someone who'd broken through his barrier somehow. He wasn't disarmed around her all the time, but right now was one of the moments where he'd let his guard down and let her into the zone that was most uncomfortable for him. This usually only happen when it was just the two of them and no one else was around to witness it.

"Come here." He said.

She obeyed, closing the short distance between them to stand right in front of him. Leaning down to compensate for the fact that she was a head and half a shoulder smaller than he was, he wrapped her in his arms. She in turn stood on her tip toes and embraced him back. They stood there, not speaking for the longest time.

She felt a horrible sadness in him while he held her. The whole situation must be weighing on him so heavily and yet she sensed that there was something he was holding back. Whatever it was, it enough to make him venerable and let down his guard enough to be open to her like she'd guessed he wasn't used to being around women.

She promised herself that she would appreciate it and not exploit him for it. Dean Winchester wasn't someone that mushed often but when he did it meant something. And the fact that he seemed to be doing it with her meant more to her than she could even understand at the moment.

"You wanna see my tree house?" She whispered into his ear.

"Would I be a geek if I said yes?" He whispered back.

"You're a geek anyway, so no harm done." Was her whispered reply, bringing some much needed comedy into the situation as they both chuckled.

She pulled away from him but remained in his arms looking up at him. Something was eating him, she was sure that the whole situation was wearing on him but there was something he was holding back, she just knew it. She could see the sadness in his eyes, feel the weight on him, the weariness.

She knew better than to ask him what was wrong. Instead she just resigned herself to being his company and be there to either listen or pretend nothing was wrong. If he needed her to be a distraction or an ear she would let him chose and fill the role.

Right now, in the middle of the night, she just wanted to be in his presence and it seemed he wanted to be in hers. So she would take him to the childhood playground she'd shared with her sister that she'd looked at and longed for since she'd gotten home but her broken heart wouldn't allow her to occupy in fear of all the memories that would rush back of a sister that no longer existed. Somehow, the thought of taking him up there wasn't so bad. It was almost she could even handle it if he were with her.

She didn't make any mention of it though. She sensed that tonight was about him, not her. She instead she took his hand and led him out the back door.

"Come on." She said as they walked out into the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean had every intention of going to sleep after they got to the roadhouse. The weariness had seeped into his bones from the long drive and even if it had meant sleeping in the stinky cheese van, he was going to do it.

But then he'd seen Rachel and for some reason got a second wind and just wanted to be in around her for a little while. For the last few months all he'd dealt with was misery and sorrow and burden.

His father was dead, the colt and the demon were gone, his father's last words to him had been that he might have to end his little brother and his car was destroyed. Rachel's memory had been the one thing that filled him with anything other than complete misery and now here she was, in the flesh before him at least for a little while.

The car being totaled had actually been a blessing in disguise because while he worked on her he could forget. Concentrating on making her new again took thought, and thought filled his head so there was little room for the rest of it. But even being so involved in the car, the rest of it hung back like a dark cloud, far off in the distance, but still very present and waiting for the moment when it would consume him.

Being with Rachel was different than working on the car. She filled every part of his head like the Impala never could. He could listen to her talk, contemplate her impossibly green eyes, her laughter took him completely so there was nothing else, not even the dark cloud. And he had to admit that Rachel, her large breast swelling against the black t-shirt and the jeans that hugged her flared hips and long legs was a different kind of pleasing than looking at the smooth lines of his baby.

He appreciated that sight right now more than ever as he climbed the wooden slates nailed to the tree that led up to the tree house. She had started up the ladder before him and he couldn't help but look at that delicious denim clad ass as it swayed with every step she took.

They reached the top, she climbed in first and stepped to the opposite end of the room as he hoisted himself up. To his surprise he was able to stand up to his full height in the wooden structure, the size of the house had been deceiving from the house. He squinted his eyes to be able to see in the gloom but didn't have to for long because it was only a second later that a small glow filled the room from the opposite corner.

Rachel stood there, next to a kerosene lamp blowing out the match she'd used to light it. She moved to another in the opposite corner and lit that one as well. The soft light from the two lamps was just enough to illuminate the inside of the house was soft, welcoming light.

It was one big room, unfinished wood just like the outside. Besides the door at Dean's back there were six square cut outs for windows. No glass or plastic in them, just bare squares cut into the walls. One on either side of the door, two on the opposite wall and one each on the other two walls.

What surprised him more than anything was that it was semi furnished. In the corner to his left there was a small, roughly finished wooden table with 2 chairs, 2 floor to ceiling bookshelves, also made of wood where on the opposite wall, a huge wooden chest and two thick sleeping mats, piled high with pillows, colorful blankets and stuffed animals, where on his right.

Dean moved into the room and began taking in all that the flickering kerosene lamps illuminated. Every where he looked he the signs that this was a well loved and cherished hide out. The shelves held board games, books, make-up cases, lanyard and beads, a small portable cd player next to stacks and stacks of cd's.

Drawing of the moon and stars and ocean waves where done in vibrant colors on the walls, a few photographs where hung here and there, he looked at one and saw a teenage Rachel smiling for the camera, no older that 12 or 13 she had her arm slung around her beautiful 10 year old tow-headed sister who was looking up at her with admiration in her eyes.

Dean felt his heart squeeze in his chest at the sight and inadvertently glanced at Rachel. She too was busy looking around, almost as if the place was unfamiliar and then it hit Dean. This was the first time she'd been up here since her sister drowned.

She had a far off look as she looked at their things strewn about the room. It was obvious that this place hadn't been used much by them since they'd been teenagers by the décor but it still had to be hard for her to be here, remembering their times here and knowing that there could be no more.

"Rachel." He called softly.

She looked over at him with sad eyes but smiled none the less.

"We don't have to be here, I'm sorry, I didn't realize." He said.

She looked at bit startled. "No. No it's fine. This is a happy place. We had loved this place so much. I feel closer to her just being here."

He could tell how loved it was and could imagine how he and Sam would have fill theirs had they been lucky enough to have a place like this. He could see the puzzles Sam loved as a kid filling the shelves and posters of muscles cars lining the walls for him. Sam would have had stacks of books and crosswords and Dean could have had some place to practice the wood carving Pastor Jim had showed him how to do once when he was eight. Maybe he even could have gotten good at it. Sam had showed a little bit of talent with the guitar once when he had attended an artisanal high school for a few months at sixteen, maybe Sam had one in the corner of their tree house.

"I couldn't stand not being able to come up here. I felt like such a chicken shit, almost like I was abandoning her memory." Rachel said pulling him from his fantasy, which was ok because dwelling on things that could have been like he'd just been doing was never a good idea.

He saw one tear slide down her cheek and roll to the delicate curve of her chin. Without thinking he moved closer to her. She watched him, never taking her eyes from him until he was so close she had to look up. He reached out and wiped the tear away from her chin gently with his thumb. To his surprise she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Inadvertently he opened his hand and cradled the side of her face, her smooth skin was warm and all of a sudden he had the irresistible urge to reach up with the other hand and cup her beautiful face, make her look up at him and claim her lips with his own.

Before he could give in she reached up and gently took hold of his wrist. She looked up at him with her emerald eyes and smiled, the tears gone.

"You know what Kelly and I used to do up here when we were stressed out? When Mom and Dad would be fighting or something and we just wanted to not think?" She asked.

"What was that?" He inquired.

"We'd lay down and look at the stars." She said.

She led him to the middle of the room and pulled him down to the bare wood floor with her. He went willingly until they were shoulder to shoulder on their backs looking up at the ceiling.

"Oh, that's cute." He said with a chuckle as he took in the sight.

He'd expected to see a sky light, the dark cloudless night shining through it for their view. Instead what he saw was about a million tiny glow in the dark stars stuck to the entire ceiling from corner to corner. The green stars, moons, planets, nebulas and suns made up dozens of mini solar systems. It was a vast universe and as he and Rachel lay under it the two of them slowly became the only inhabitants in this tree house galaxy and beyond.

Dean let the calm sweep over him. He tried not to think as he took in all the patterns the little green things made above him. He was aware of his breathing and hers as they just lay there, silent for a very long time.

After a while Rachel began to whisper to him that he was looking a few actual constellations. She and Kelly had had an astronomy book and had copied the better known ones. She pointed out the Big Dipper and Orion. Dean thought he even recognized his sign constellation of Aquarius and asked her if one group of stars a little to their left was it. She chuckled and told him he was right before praising him for his keen eye. She told him that Kelly had been an Aquarius as well so she'd recreated it and then pointed to her own of Gemini not too far away.

"Thank you Rachel." He said turning his head to look at her.

"For what?" She asked, looking back at him.

"For bringing me up here. This place was very special to you guys and you didn't have to let me see it." He said.

She turned over to her side facing him and propped her head up on her hand. Some of her long hair fell over the front of her shoulder and the light from the lamps made shadows dance across her face.

"I was going to say the same thing to you. I'm glad I didn't have to come up here for the first time alone." She told him.

"It's a great place." He said looking back up at the ceiling and before he could stop himself he sighed and added. "I needed this."

He meant that the solitude and distraction were very welcome. That right now was the most peace he'd felt in a very long time. He expected her to ask for clarification. To ask what he meant by it but instead she surprised him with her next words.

"I know." She said softly.

A bit startled, he looked back to her. Her face gave nothing away; her eyes were filled with compassion but not pity, which he was thankful for.

"I know you've been through a lot, Dean. But there's more weighing on you than you're giving up." She said.

He rolled to his side facing her and mirrored her pose, crooking his elbow on the floor and resting his head on his hand. Eye to eye now he sought how she could know in her green depths.

"And how can you tell that?" He asked when he could find no answer in her eyes. "You know what's going on with us and you don't think that's enough to crush someone?"

"Of course! I'd be a big steaming pile of mush. I was for a long time and all that happened to me was that my sister drowned. But you…." She narrowed her eyes a bit as if focusing in on his character. "You'd just be more determined than you ever where to kill the fucker because that's what your dad would have wanted. But that's not what's going on with you. You're almost….heartbroken."

He couldn't answer her so he just stared. He was heartbroken, not over losing the gun or even dad for that matter. It was hard but when he thought of those things all it made him want to do was rip the fucking yellow eyes of out the demons head when he caught up with him. It was thinking about what was going to happen with Sam that made his chest ache. What if what dad said actually came to pass and he would have to hurt Sam? How could he go on after that?

Sam mistook it for grief over dad. Maybe Sam was clouded because he was dealing with grief of his own but Rachel knew somehow. How did she know? Was he that much of an open book? He didn't think so but somehow she'd seen it on him.

Dean felt the urge then. The incredible urge to tell her everything, to spill it all right here on the tree house floor and share the burden with another living soul. The weight of it all would still be on his shoulders to carry but she would KNOW. She would understand. She would feel his pain and she would be just as angry at dad as he was for putting this burden on him.

"How do you do that?" He asked her.

"How do I do what?" She asked in return.

"How do you make me want to tell you things that I would never tell anyone else?"

She didn't answer. She just looked so deep into his eyes that he felt like she could see his secret without him having to put it into words.

"You can tell me anything you need to Dean. Go ahead, I'll listen." She said.

Dean took a deep breath and made his decision. He started talking but didn't even know where he began. The words spilled from him there in the semi-darkness in the flickering kerosene and under the tiny green glowing stars and he couldn't stop them if he tried.

She listened like she said she would. She never interrupted him once but he could see the effect of his words on her face. How her eyes brows drew together when he told her that he really thought that Dad was dead and he was the reason behind it even though he couldn't prove it, her eyes became damp when he told her about Dad saying good bye as he lay in the hospital bed, somehow remarkably recovered from injuries that should have killed him. And her expression was just as shocked as his might have been when he told her his father's final words to him about Sam.

Then it was over. He'd said everything that needed to be said to make her understand and they were silent. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his chest in that silence. He was sure it wouldn't last long but for right now his purged soul felt lighter. He was grateful to her for being the ear that made that possible even as he waited for her response. When it came it in a very unexpected form.

She reached out her hand and gently cradled the side of his face like he had before.

"I'm sorry." She said. "It's not fair what he did. It was too much to ask of you."

"Yeah well, it's not like he can take it back now." He said.

"You're not going to have to kill Sam. You know that right?" She said pulling her hand back.

He wasn't expecting to hear that. He'd denied it in his head ever since the words had left his father's mouth but now hearing someone else say them it was almost….a relief. Because if she thought that too then maybe it was possible that he could save him instead.

"I hope not." He said.

"Don't hope." She retorted. "If anyone can save him, you can."

"I wish I believed in myself half as much as you believed in me Rach." He said. And it was the truth.

"Well, then I guess I'll have to believe in you enough for the both of us." She said. "And I do."

He just stared at her. How could she have so much faith in him? How could she not know that he was poison and screwed things up that were important? How could she look at him like he was a hero of any kind? And how could he not almost cherish her for it?

She'd made him feel better tonight on so many levels. Better than he'd felt in months and months. Realizing that made him also realize that her comfort, if she was willing to give it all to him, wasn't something he wanted to deny himself any more.

So he reached out for her then. He took her into his arms and she came willingly. He found her lips and kissed her deeply as he pressed her back against the floor. He lost himself in the warmth of her mouth, the feeling of her hands on his shoulders, her soft curves pressing against him. She was willing to give him all the comfort she had to offer it seemed. Even that of her body and he was so thankful for it it almost choked him up.

Her hands moved over him, long strokes down his back over the t-shirt he wore and he felt his body react to her instantly. His testicles tightened pleasurably and he felt himself begin to grow and strain against his jeans.

He ran his hand down to her hip and then slowly up and under her shirt, her skin so smooth as he moved his fingers over her rib cage and up to cup her large breast over her bra.

She moaned against his mouth just a bit and he kissed her deeper in response, loving the way she reacted to him. He ran his thumb over her hardening nipple and was rewarded with a tiny shudder, it made him want to make her shudder more. She tightened her grip on him and rose up, then leaned into him until he rolled over onto his back and she was on top of him, her knees straddling his hips as she continued to kiss him.

He ran his hands up the backs of her jean clad thighs and higher, to her small waist then reached back down fill both his hands with the beautiful swell of her ass, which he squeezed gently, wishing with everything he was that he could wish away her clothes and feel her bare skin there.

She broke the kiss and pushed herself up to a sitting position. That ass that he'd been just been fondling came to rest on his groin and it was all he could do not to groan as she began to grind against him gentl.

He closed his eyes and pushed against her as she bore down just bit harder, rubbing him through his jeans between the junction of her thighs, the sweet pressure agonizing. She took hold of the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head, revealing the skin he was aching for so bad. Fist her flat belly and the delicate ring of her navel followed by her ribcage and then the beautiful swell of her breast encased in a silky black bra. She pulled it all the way off and threw it to the side, her hair falling in black sheets down around her like dark angel.

Dean ran his hands up her beautiful body and felt the electricity in her skin pass to him. She arched her neck back, relishing his touch and it was in that action that Dean noticed the sweet spot right above her collar bone that looked like it was aching to be kissed.

He sat up, his arms around her once again, his hands on the small of her back and between her shoulder blades under the curtain of her hair pressing her to him as he closed his mouth over the sensitive skin right where her neck met her collar.

She gave him a little 'ohhh' and arched back slightly, telling him that the spot was definitely as sensitive as he'd hoped his would be. He continued to lick and kiss her there and her hips went to work on him as he did. She ground her pelvis on him, rubbing the most sensitive part of her against his hardness that pushed against her.

The friction was almost too much for him to bear, the action of her hips flexing back and forth against his crotch like this made him feel as if the constraining denim would pop at the seams any moment, no longer able to contain his growing need.

She reached down and gathered his shirt in her fists at his flanks, pulling the fabric up he broke his mouth away from her long enough to lift his arms to allow her to get the shirt all the way off of him. She tossed it aside and just like that he was naked from the waist up.

He found her mouth again and she wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders as the other she ran down the front of his chest. She worshiped his body just as much as he worshiped hers and she told him so with the gentle, lingering touches of his skin.

Dean let his mind be filled with nothing but her. Her scent, the way she felt in his arms, the sting of her nails as the bit into him just a little bit. He welcomed it, needed it, craved it and absorbed it as if his very life depended on it. His life didn't depend on it, but his sanity absolutely did.

He had a vague notion of rising from the floor with her still in his arms, his lips still pressed to hers, half carrying her to the mattress foams in the corner where he laid her down, her dark hair fanning over the bright colored pillow cases and bringing his body down over hers again.

Her hands kneaded the bunched muscles of his biceps as he kissed her throat and made his way down her chest to her sternum. She arched against him so sweetly as he planted tiny nipping kisses down her chest, he took the opportunity to reach under and unhook her bra, before moving lower to her flat belly.

Her breath was ragged as he traced his tongue around her navel. Following the round shape before leaning up to undo her jeans. Hooking his fingers in the waist band he slid them slowly down her hips, revealing silky black panties to match the bra. As he moved the denim down her long thighs and calves and then tossed them into the pile with their discarded shirts.

He took a moment to look down at her then, clad in nothing but her satiny under garments. She looked like a dark angel. Beautiful dark hair spread around her, her olive toned skin almost bare for his sight except for the few straps of fabric that hid her most intimate parts from his view and that followed the womanly contours of her.

God he wanted her so bad, the thought of sinking into her, the sensation of her hot and tight around him was almost more than her could bear but he forced himself to go slow, to draw out the pleasure they could give each other and prolong his state of peace as long as he could. But he could tell she wanted him just as badly because while he sat back on his heels admiring her she rose slowly to her knees before him and let the bra slid down her bare arms.

God she was beautiful, her breasts were large with dark rose nipples that were begging for his touch. So he reached out and pulled her to him then gently took one in each of his palms. His cock grew harder if that was possible and screamed against the jeans he still wore to be released. But he ignored it for the moment as he bent his head to take one of those taut nipples into his hungry mouth.

He sucked and tongued the tight little pearl and was rewarded with the sensual arch of her back and a long deep moan that escaped her lips. She reached down as he continued to suck and manipulate her nipple with the wet heat of his mouth and undid his jeans. Pulling the zipper down she reached into the waistband of his underwear and closed her hand around the hard, hot flesh there.

Dean's whole body ignited at her touch, especially when she began to move her hand slowly up to the head and ran her fingers around the ridge there. When she pressed a finger to the small sensitive spot near the tip on the underside of the head that was when a moan of his own escaped him and he bit down gently on her nipple still in his mouth in reaction.

He rose to his knees and crushing her against him, took her mouth a little harder this time. Passion rolled through him and it was either kiss her now or give into the incredible urge to strip her the rest of the way naked and plunge his aching cock into the wet heat he knew was waiting for him at the junction of her thighs.

Her breast pressed against his bare chest, her head tilted up to return his kiss, her hair falling down behind her to her hips, all soft curves to his hard planes, the contrast so primal it was enough to drive him mad with need. She welcomed his mouth and hands on her, but more importantly she welcomed his burden, was willing to ease it some with the heat her body could offer and the solace of her arms. Her hands trailed down his flanks and her fingers pushed down the fabric of his open jeans. She pushed them down past his hips, finally releasing his straining cock where it pointed proudly up toward his belly button.

He lay back against the pillows as she finished pulling them off. When she was done he lay before her, naked, aroused and at her mercy. He didn't think there was any other state with any other person in the universe he'd rather be in right now. She rose to her feet slowly, never taking her eyes from him. She looked like an erotic version of an evil yet beautiful witch, black silky hair, dusky skin and just perfect rounded curves he wanted to taste every inch of.

She pushed her panties down her hips slowly, making him wait to see every inch of skin she exposed with the action, driving him crazier with need if that were possible. She bent and pushed the little slip of fabric down her thighs until finally it pooled at her feet. She stepped out of then and kicked them to the side with a pointed toe and managed to it all with a grace that only a female could exert.

She stood before him gloriously naked and he drank in the sight of her, Her sex was smooth and hairless like he remembered, the tight pinkish lips already glistening with her need for him. God, to take her by the hips, guide her over him and push into that welcoming wetness. But no, he had to control himself. He wasn't some clumsy jerk that didn't know how to take his time with a woman. It would come in time and it would be worth the wait.

She got moved down over him, straddling him and leaning down to kiss him again. He welcomed her into his arms and took her mouth again, this time their kiss wasn't gentle, it was hungry and wanting, She pulled at his lips and met his tongue with demanding strokes of her own. Her hair fell over her shoulder to pool on the front of his chest and he reveled in the silky feeling.

He ran his hands down her sides to the flare of her hips and then reached behind to cup an ass cheek in either of his hands. He kneaded the flesh just a little and moaned at the shot of pleasure it gave him to touch her there. He reached down further and found her sex, sliding his fingers against her was easy as she was slick with her own juice. She gasped against his mouth as he began to work a finger into that tight opening, wanting so bad to feel her from the inside. So tight and hot, God, he was going to die if he didn't stick his cock in there soon.

He began to move his finger in and out slowly, she tore away from his mouth and threw her head back with what sounded like a low growl. He increased the pressure and depth of his finger, his other hand pulling at her thigh to open her up to him. She began to flex her hips, pushing his finger into her deeper, demanding more stimulation that the teasing little he was giving her.

Just as he was starting to enjoy it she reached behind and gently took his wrist, pulling his finger out of her and looking down at him.

"No." She said a little breathlessly. "It's not about me tonight."

And with that she leaned down and kissed the most sensitive part of his neck, he arched his head back and closed his eyes as she rolled her tongue over his skin but then she moved lower. Running her hands down his body as she pulled her mouth against his pectoral, and then lower still, stopping for a month to graze her teeth against his nipple. She ran her tongue down over his abdomen and then stopped again to play at his belly button like he had to her.

_She wasn't, was she? Could she be? Oh God, please let her be. _Was all he could think as she moved down even lower between his legs; she trailed her tongue down the line from his navel to his pubic bone and kissed him lightly in that sensitive spot.

Dean's heart raced in his chest, the anticipation of what might come next was more than he could handle and then before he knew it there it was. She took hold of him firmly and raised the head of his cock to her mouth. Hot wetness as she slid her lips over him and he couldn't help the small 'oh' that escaped him as her tongue slid over the head.

Most women he'd been with never did this for him. His escapades where usually one night stand and most of his partners never thought this was ok to do with someone you'd just met, so this was a something very rare for him and he silently thanked Rachel for being so unselfish and deciding to pleasure him this way.

She took as much of him into her mouth as she could, sliding down before sliding back up again, the delicious suction of her wet mouth building heat in his belly. She played with the head with her lips sucking in it gently like she would a lollypop; she traced the ridge with her tongue, making his sensitive flesh hot and aching. Dean's balls tightened pleasurably as she sucked on him, stopped to lick the head and nip it gently with her teeth. Her hand moved up and down as her lips worked, massaging him, working him up to a frenzy only to slow down just enough and take him into her mouth fully again.

His hands played in her hair, touched her face gently when she looked up at him, that look enough to drive him insane, her eyes innocent while her mouth proved otherwise. He flexed hips at times, pushing into her mouth as one of his hands cradled the back of her head and before long she had him worked up to the point that he had his head back against the pillows and couldn't help the small whimpers and grunts that escaped him.

Dean felt the pressure build and knew he needed to stop her soon before he couldn't help but topple over the edge. But she seemed to know that he'd hit the point soon and slowed down before stopping altogether and rising to sit back on her haunches.

She asked him if he had anything and she fished the foil wrapped ring out of the wallet in the back pocket of his jeans, which were at arm's length thankfully, when he told her where it was. After taking a moment to ensure they were safe she straddled his hips again and took hold of him. She guided him to her, taking a moment to rub the head against her swollen clit and enjoy the sensation as it racked through her.

But then he was there, pressed against her tight opening and she was sinking down on him. He took hold of her hips and closed his eyes against the onslaught of sensation that attacked him. Hot and wet, she enveloped him, her slick sheath gripping him. He looked up at her, she looked like something other worldly with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, obviously enjoying the feeling of him inside her as much as he was enjoying the feeling of being inside her finally.

The lamp light danced across her skin, her heavy breasts, her flat belly, her wet pussy he was buried so deep in right now. He moved then, just a short little thrust into her but it won him a nice deep sigh that he wanted to hear again.

She looked down at him and began to move. Flexed her hips with intent, withdrawing him only to push forward and engulf him again. She placed her hands on his chest to brace herself and slowly pumped her hips, massaging him with her hot wet pussy now instead of her hands and he guided her hips as she did. The pace quickened and now he lifted his hips to thrust into her, push up as she pushed down. They held each other's gazes as they dance this most primitive of dances, their ecstasy building with every push and pull, every thrust.

Dean reached up and cupped her breasts, pinching the nipples until she cried out in pleasure. He leaned up then to take one into his mouth and flick his tongue over it, wanting her to feel the sensation deep in her pussy as she fucked him.

The new angle gave her more freedom of movement so while he sucked one nipple and fingered the other, she wrapped one arm around his shoulders, held onto one of his biceps with the other hand, leaned back and began fast short strokes with her hips.

Dean thought he was going to die and bit down on her nipple in response, he hoped not too hard and was assured when he heard her cry out in pleasure. So she liked it a bit rough huh? He bit her again while with his other hand he pinched the other nipple. She cried out again and again quickened her pace. He felt his climax begin to roll inside him, no way could he last much longer, her pistoning on him like this and her cunt feeling like heaven.

He let go of the tight little bud of her nipple and reached down between them, he slid his fingers into her sex and found the hard nub of her clit. He began to rub the little bundle of nerves with his thumb, moving over it in a circular motion and she responded to him just as he hoped she would. She dug her nails into him and threw her head back. He attached his mouth to her throat and rode the wave with her as he continued to rub her clitoris until she was frantic.

He could tell she was close from the little sounds she made and then before long she was crying out, arching against him as she came. He was right behind her, the feeling of her tightening from the inside, spasming around his cock was too much to bear and he came hard right after her. His own cry echoing hers as his hips jerked and the hot fluid rushed out of him.

The pleasure spread in his belly as the crescendo eased down for them both. They wrapped their arms around each other and she pressed her forehead to his. As one they came down off the incredible wave they'd just rode together. Their breath came in gasps, their bodies' slick with perspiration and heaving just a bit.

They sat like that for a long time, still joined, until their heart resumed normal rhythms again. They shared a few long kisses and after a while Dean turned her and lay her down on the pillows again.

After taking care of the condom he lay down next to her and pulled one of the comforters folded at their feet over them. Neither of them said anything, nothing had to be said. They just lay there on their sides facing each other, wrapped in one another's arms.

Dean didn't even remember there was something he had been trying to forget as he drifted off to sleep as she held him.


	9. Chapter 9

Rachel woke in her bed the next morning and looked at the alarm clock on her end table. It was almost 11 AM. She knew she should get up but she decided to lie in bed for 5 more minutes before dragging herself from its soft comfort. Mom would be downstairs in the bar already and wouldn't need her until at least the early evening, so there was no rush.

Rachel felt a pleasant ache between her thighs and smiled at the memory of the cause of it. She stretched her muscles and allowed her mind to drift back to last night.

He'd told her everything. Things no one person should have to bear that weighed so heavily on him. The easing of it was almost tangible as he'd verbalized it to her, probably for the first time out loud. She'd tried everything she could to just remain silent, not judge or pity him (he wouldn't tolerate that well) and not scream out what a douche bag John Winchester was to do this to someone he was supposed to love and protect.

She'd just listened, which was what he'd needed. And after he bore his soul he'd needed something else, something more physical. The comfort of a soft body and a release of the tension that had been building up. She'd been more than happy to oblige him that as well for she herself had been craving him like a drug.

She'd made sure that the focus had been on him. She'd wanted to focus on him to ease away at least some of the crap he'd been dealing with. And what better way to do that than to make him shudder in response to her.

In her mind she replayed moments from last night as she lay there; his hands running down her back, the feel of his mouth on her nipples, looking up at him and seeing his head arched back in pleasure as her mouth moved over the most sensitive part of him.

She paused at that one thought and smiled. She could almost feel him against her lips right now as she thought about it. Hard yet velvety soft at the same time, she could feel his pulse throbbing in her mouth at times, the beat quick and steady and rising with each new level of pleasure she was able to bring him to as she ran her tongue against the head and sucked on him ever so gently, and then not so gently only to go back to gentle again.

Rachel felt her body begin to respond to the image. She pressed her thighs together as her core became a little more sensitive. If she continued thinking about the way she'd made love with Dean Winchester last night she was going to wind up laying in this bed and touching herself until she came. So instead she turned her thoughts to the more simple parts of last night.

They'd fallen asleep on the mats she and Kelly used as beds to have sleepovers in the tree house, their naked bodies pressed against one another and covered by one of the thick colorful comforters left over from her teen years.

They'd slept entwined for maybe an hour or so before waking. And when they had she'd whispered that they should get dressed and head back. He'd wrapped her in his arms in response and kissed her until she was breathless. Then he'd moved her under him again after taking a quick second to secure another thin rubber sheath over himself. It was then that he'd pressed his hardness into her again.

She arched in response to the thick member pressing into her tight center and sent a wave of ecstasy through her entire body. She pulled his full weight down onto her and loved the feeling of it as he's wrapped his arms around her and looked down into her eyes. She'd pressed her hands to his broad back and spread her knees as far as they would go to accept more of him into her.

He moved slowly. Long, languid strokes as he kissed her mouth then the line of her jaw down to her neck. She felt the muscles in his back flex under her touch as he moved. Pulling out slowly just to push back in as far as he would go just as slowly. She whispered his name into his ear and flexed her own hips up to meet every one of his strokes. Wanting nothing more than to make him feel as good as he was making her feel.

He'd been so passionate that second time, showing her just what a generous lover he was capable of being and it wasn't long before she was shuddering under him with release, breathing heavily into his ear and digging her nails into his shoulder as her body convulsed around him.

He'd quickened his pace just a little bit as she began to come. Looking down at her as she came and then kissing her softly as she floated down from the pinnacle of her orgasm to land back on Earth with him.

He came soon after. His whole body tensed as his hips jerked with real intent for the first time. She looked up at him and saw his eyes were shut against the onslaught of sensation that must have been running through him. She enjoyed watching him so venerable for a moment. So completely lost in her as he found his release, this one moment was when he belonged to her like she knew he never could outside of this act.

When it was over for him he leaned down over her, still buried deep inside, to rest for a moment and she relished the feeling of his hard body against her soft one. But it was in that quiet moment that she'd realized what she'd thought a second ago and chastised herself for it.

She told herself she'd best not think a thought like that again. Dean Winchester belonged to no one and this thing they did together now he'd done with countless women and would continue to do with other women. She wasn't special and she never would be.

She knew that. Accepted that. Was fine with it and still wanted him any way. Whatever role they fell into in each other's lives it would never be one where they were together. Hunting partners? Yes. Friends? Yes. Lovers? Most definitely. But never belonging to one another. She knew better than to expect that from him and while if she knew it was possible she might have felt differently but she knew it was never to be and was content to allow him to just be what he was right now and be happy with it.

Thoughts like the one she'd just had were dangerous when you knew it could never be. She promised herself she wouldn't think them again and felt better with herself when he'd finally moved his weight off of her and pulled out.

They dressed and headed down the ladder. He'd paused at the base of the tree to pull her into his arms once again and kiss her goodnight. She'd molded to him and kissed him back. Loving the feeling of his lips on her slightly swollen ones knowing that they were like that because of him kissing her mouth all night.

They'd gone their separate ways, she to her room and him to the garage. She'd fallen asleep almost immediately after her head hit the pillow.

Laying in bed now she tried not to think of that moment again. To stop herself she got up and showered. When she was dressed she went down stairs and poured herself some coffee which mom had left staying warm for her in the coffee maker and made some toast and jelly for breakfast. She wondered if the Winchesters were gone yet as she poured milk into her cup. They very well could have already spoken to Ash and left, she tried not to let herself be disappointed at the fact that she might not see Dean before he left.

When she finished her breakfast she headed out to the bar and tried to ignore the fact that she was glad when she walked in and saw Sam sitting at the bar talking to her mother.

"Morning Rachel." Sam said when she walked in.

"Morning Sam. You look much less like a little girl could kick your ass this morning." Rachel said as she walked behind the bar to begin restocking the dried beer glasses from last night.

"Yeah, it was rough last night." Sam agreed.

"How come you didn't tell me they were here Rach?" Ellen asked her daughter.

"You were asleep mom. I put them up in the garage, fed Dean and went to bed, there was no reason to wake you." Rachel said.

"Did I hear my name?" Came a deep voice from the back of the bar.

Rachel looked over and had to stifle the stupid smile that threatened to split her face and spill their secret to Sam and her mother. Dean, freshly showered and dressed in faded jeans and a flannel shirt came through the back doors and walked toward the bar.

He caught her eye and gave her the barest twitch of one of his eye brows. Something only she would know see and recognize as an acknowledgement of their time together last night. She reciprocated with a tiny hint of a smile back to him. That was unfortunately all the affection they could allow here in front of their family and it was enough.

"Yeah, I was just telling mom how much you loved her lasagna. Coffee?" Rachel asked.

"Please." He answered. "Yeah Ellen, that was some mean pasta. I hear crack was involved." Dean said. Rachel laughed as she poured his coffee from the urn behind the bar.

"Thank you and…what?" Ellen said with a frown.

"Nothing mom." Rachel said as she turned and set the steaming cup of black coffee on the bar in front of Dean. "Just a little joke we had last night."

Her mother studied her, her brown eyes questioning the way only Rachel knew they could be. She shrugged then and let out a breath. Her next words were breezy but pointed.

"Well, Sam and I have been here since this morning waiting for you both to crawl out of bed. Must have been a late night…...telling jokes, was it?" Mom said, her eyes fixed on Dean.

Her tone changed slightly on the last two words and it was very obvious that she knew more than she was letting on.

_Fuck! _Rachel thought, wondering if her mother knew or was just suspicious. Dean took the barest pause as he sipped the steaming coffee and then set it down.

He looked back at Ellen and gave her that smart ass crinkle of his eyes that always seemed to precede one of his comebacks.

"Well, I'm not sure about Rachel but I know I was all but dead after fighting the evil clown apocalypse you sent us on."

Rachel waited for Ellen to retort but instead she smiled. Who was this woman and what had she done with Ellen O'Conner?

"You boys did a hell of a job. Your dad would be proud."

"Thanks." Sam said, looking uncomfortable at the whole situation.

Just then the back door opened and Ash walked out with a bizarre looking laptop under his arm. Wires of every color stuck out in haphazard directions and in some parts you could see the circuits underneath.

"Where you guys been? Been waitin' for ya." He said to the Winchesters.

"We were working a job, Ash. Clowns?" Sam informed him.

"Clowns? What the f-"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean asked before Ash could let out his profanity.

"Come take a look." Ash said and set the laptop down on the table nearest them. Sam and Dean slid off their bar stools and sat at the table to get a better look.

Rachel minded her own business and finished putting the glasses away and then moved on to scouring the bar sink with a soft piece of steel wool.

The job was mundane and slowly killing her. Especially when there was a real live hunt being discussed not 3 feet away from her. But it wasn't her hunt; it was too personal to the people whose hunt it was for her ever to get involved unless she could offer something to it the way Ash could. She couldn't, but she wanted to feel the buzz of it if nothing else so she made sure she was within ear shot to hear what was going on between the three men.

She listened as Ash explained that he'd rigged the laptop to go off when certain signs collected together anywhere in the world. Omens of the demon that John had pattered in his journal and gave away the location of the yellowed eye son of a bitch.

Sam was in awe and didn't understand how a simple soul like Ash could know how to do something so complex. Rachel smiled inwardly and felt a jolt of pride as Ash explained he'd learned it at M.I.T.

All the while she stole glances at Dean as he sat there and listened to how Ash would help him find his mothers (and maybe now even his father's) killer and she felt an intense wave of gratitude for Ash in the middle of it all. She hoped her mad scientist/eccentric red neck would be able to help him.

"Okay. You give us a call as soon as you know something?" Dean said and rose to his feet.

That was it, they were leaving. Rachel felt a sense of disappointment but she shook it off. Best not to let feelings like that seep in.

"Si, si, compadre." Ash answered.

"Thanks for everything Ellen." Sam said.

"Now, you boys don't have to leave so soon now do you?" Ellen said walking around the front of the bar to stand before the two much taller men. "You know how comfortable my garage is already and how good my food is. I feel like I owe it to your Daddy to offer you at least one more night of hospitality."

"Thanks Ellen we appreciate that." Dean said. "But I got something I gotta finish."

The car. Rachel knew it by the tone his voice took.

"Okay." Ellen said and smiled.

She walked around them then and aimed her voice at Ash.

"Now that you're done fiddling in your room with that thing you can get back to your real job: Working for me and my bar. We got inventory to stock, get your skinny ass down in the basement right now."

"Yes Ma'am." Was all Ash said and followed her out of the back door toward the cellar.

Alone in the bar with Sam and Dean now, Rachel came around the front of the bar with a rag that she ran over the polished brass rail.

"Look like Ash is gonna be able to pinpoint this fucker for you guys. I'm glad he's able to help." She said.

"Yeah. Well, it's more than we had before we got here." Sam said.

"Sure is. I'm not good with computers like Ash but if there's anything I can do to help you know I'm here right?" She said looking deeply into Sam's eyes.

"I know, thanks Rachel." He said.

She embraced him then, he still had to almost double over to get his arms around her even when she was on the very tips of her toes. When they pulled away she looked up at him and contemplated the narrow features of his face.

Dean's words came back to her then as she looked at the younger Winchester. His eyes, so compassionate and warm and caring and open in his boyishly handsome face.

John was wrong. There was nothing in Sam that would warrant anyone, especially his own brother, ending him. Her heart ached just looking at him and felt an intense wave of just wanting this to be over for them.

Dean caught her eyes then. And she looked back at him knowingly. Sam misunderstood the look as them hoping for a moment alone and acted on it.

"I'll go load our stuff up into the car." He said to Dean.

Dean just nodded and Sam was gone a moment later.

She and Dean were alone in the bar. Time to say goodbye to him yet again.

"So, going to finish patching up your true love before Ash can get you a location on the demon?" She asked and hopped up to sit on the bar facing him.

"Yeah, I owe it to her. And nothing has made as much sense to me as working on that car for the last few months. She's become my happy place it seems."

Rachel contemplated him with narrowed eyes and stared back waiting for her reply. Before she could give it they both began chuckling at the very odd sentence he'd just voiced.

"I bet a shrink would love to get into your head for an hour." Rachel said.

"Believe it or not they wouldn't find much up there except for some Black Sabbath and the need for cheese fries." He said.

They laughed again and Rachel was happy for the ease they'd seemed to find with each other. No talking about where their "Relationship" was going, no awkwardness. She was grateful. Then he got serious again.

"Rachel I know I don't need to say it but I'm going to anyway, whatever I told you last night stays between us right?"

Rachel shook her head slightly.

"I don't even know what you're talking about right now." She said. "Of course, Dean. I would never make you sorry you told me anything."

"I know. Thank you." He said.

She felt his sincerity in those words. She knew how hard it was to say the things he did last night and maybe he was even sorry he did in the light of day. But all she could do was hope that she'd put him at ease in knowing that his secret was safe with her.

"So, am I going to see you again?" She asked.

"Would you like to?" He asked.

"I wouldn't hate it." She said honestly. "But as much as I'm starting to get itchy here I can't go any time soon. It'll kill my mother."

"So no more meeting up by accident or otherwise out there?" He asked.

"I'm slinging whiskey at least for a while it seems." She said. "That doesn't mean you can't stop in from time to time. I'll show you my tree house again."

He smiled when she did then. But then his face mellowed again and he looked at her with seriousness.

"I'm in no place to promise you anything right now Rachel. You know me well enough to know that I'm not myself right now. Don't get me wrong, last night was…."

"Needed." She finished for him and gave him a little smile to let him know that she didn't feel offended or used at all by his inability to commit to being her lover right now. She understood and hoped that he knew that.

"Yeah." He agreed. "In more way than just the obvious Rachel. Sam's been on me to talk to him but he can't know why I can't speak to him about. You do now and I needed that more than anything. But besides that….until this is over with…."

"Dean stop." She said softly. He looked up at her and she could see the guilt in his eyes. Guilt that didn't need to be there.

"You spent how long dancing around me when I was fucked up?" She asked rhetorically. "Why would you think that I wouldn't understand or do the same do the same when it's your turn to be fucked up?"

He studied her. She could see his brain working as he stared at her with those hazel eyes of his. What he said next took her a bit by surprise but in a good way.

"You're an awesome chick, you know that?" He asked.

She did her best to shrug it off even though inside she was as joyful as a girl being kissed for the first time by a boy she'd had a crush on forever.

"You're just figuring that out?" She asked with a fake air of arrogance.

He closed the distance between them then and wrapped his arms around her. She opened her knees and he slid between them to be able to pull her ask close to him as possible as he kissed her.

Her arms went around his neck and she relished in the feeling of his lips on hers, the closeness of him reminding her again of the closeness they'd shared last night.

"I'm here if you need me ok?" She whispered when he pulled away. "Don't ever not call me again unless you're dead."

"Only if I'm dead. I promise." He whispered back.

He pulled away from her altogether then and walked out the back of the bar without another word.

Rachel watched him go. When she was alone in the bar she looked around at her surroundings and wondered how she was going to be able to deal with just being a bar tender again after seeing him leave to hunt when she was ready to burst out of her skin before he'd come.

Knowing he was still out there and in fact not dead? She had no idea how long she would be able to tolerate it here anymore after this.


End file.
